Recently, Ok, it was actually just yesterday. I read two blog posts that created a ton of self doubt in my already worn- down- mommy- frazzled brain. The posts, while very well meaning and in no way meant to be offensive, really gave me a lot to think about.
The general idea was that homeschooling mothers should not spend the day in their pajamas, let the dishes go undone while lounging around in torn yoga pants and an old t-shirt. The idea was expressed that it was not a sought after idea that her sons marry a woman who spends her day in pj's. Wow.
That is a heavy statement. Because it hit home.
Oddly enough, when I read these posts, both one after another, I was in torn yoga pants, an old t-shirt, while dishes undone and a house full of chaos. One 5 year old jumping everywhere and one 7 month old who slept a total of 40 minutes, not all together mind you, the entire day.
Did I mention I was tired and by tired I mean, I was so tired I couldn't see straight?
Did I mention that during one of my bathroom trips I almost fell asleep on the toilet? That was after I sat there thinking, ' Maybe I can just hide in here for the rest of the day'. It's not that my children are bad. Or that I don't love to be with them, because I do.
It's just every once in a while.... I doubt myself. I get worn down. I spend a day in my pajamas. I need a break from the pressure. Those blog posts creeped into my life at that exact time.
I took a deep breath.
I made a huge ice cream sundae and split it with my 5 year old.
I got on the floor and had a crawling race with my 7 month old.
I put on a simple dress and make-up.
I still thought I might pass out at any given moment. If my 7 month old had spent more than 10 minutes at a time in his exersaucer without babbling baby jargon the entire time, then I very well may have fallen asleep for a minute or so. I did however congratulate myself when I made it to the end of the day and both boys were sweetly sleeping.
I ate dinner and my husband and I watched Little House on The Prairie.
Oh, I love this show. Where else can you find the simple joys of life so easily portrayed and fun to examine? Real life is tainted with so many distractions. It's so fun to peek into a world where life was so much more simple. When family and community were what really mattered.
I had let myself ponder the question that I had almost unwillingly been asked, in so many forms, earlier that day. " What kind of woman would I want my sons to marry?". " What kind of mother do I want for my grandkids?" A slob? Was I a slob? I'm definitely not Ma Ingalls. But nowadays, who is? She holds a standard that is hard to reach, even on our tippy toes. When it comes to the chores, anyway.
There is however, one thing that she does that I can do. I can speak kindly to my sons ( most of the time). I can teach them about God and his awesome love. I can spend any given afternoon on any given weekday with them smiling, laughing, teaching them, cooking for them, hugging them. I can do it all with love.
If I set an example for them that Moms are human. Perhaps they will be inclined to marry a humble, god fearing woman who, dare I say, spends a few days in her pajamas? After all, I kind of like the idea of going to visit my daughter-in-law on a Tuesday, in our pajama's, drinking coffee and playing old-maid.
Last night I rocked my 7 month old baby boy. Feeling his sweet little baby hand on my chest. He sleeps on me differently that he does his dad. More relaxed, more at home. Like the way you sleep in your bed versus someone else's bed. I breathed in the smell of his sweet baby hair. I held that little boy close and tight. So thankful for the beyond-words-blessing that he is to me and my family.
I kissed his head, I sang a soft little lullaby. I rocked him. I thought of the babies who cry themselves to sleep at his age because " They don't need anything." The answer began to come to me. The baby in my arms was being held and rocked because he didn't need anything, but love. Love of his mother. A love that is not matched by any other love.
The outward clothes do little for a person but dress them. They have some importance but lose significance when weighed against the power of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness.
I hope, I pray whoever my sons take to marry, they marry a woman who has a heart filled with those things. I am not saying that she should roll into Sunday services in an old t-shirt with torn yoga pants. Or even the grocery store for that matter. But in her home. Her place of rest. Let her wear those old pants. Let her be lazy every once in a while. Let her remember the time her babies were young. Her body was young, her life was young. She was loved and adored and comfortable. Even if it's only just for that one Tuesday that we sit and drink coffee and play old-maid.
Awesomeness :)
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